Murder Fancy

I hate my neighbors. They're cartoons of rich garbage people, bubbling in the California sun. Their lifestyle is about money, and they consider only themselves. Their point of view, from the driver's seat of a black Lexus, is that other people exist to serve them, and friends are those who can help financially.

You've met these kind of people. They don't care about anybody else, yet they insist they're good people. They park their expensive cars carelessly, far from the curb, and leave no room for others. They let their dogs shit everywhere and don't pick it up. And if you have the nerve to call them out on it, they play the role of the ignorant victim. They are the epitome of malignant obliviousness, and they are the #1 cause of cancer in America. I truly hate my neighbors.




Yet I've always hated all my neighbors. Every single one of them I've found to be actively or passively ruining my day simply by existing. Even if I lived by myself in the woods, I'd find some creature to be angry at. I'd hate the goddamn owls, flapping their majestic wings all night long. "LEAVE THOSE MICE ALONE YOU CRUEL-EYED SWOOPING FUCKS!!!" I'd yell in the rain, overalls soaked, shaking a fistful of cornbread.




But my neighbors actually suck. I'm not imagining it. They went on vacation once and left their dog in the yard to whimper and take shits. Somebody must've come by to feed and water him, because he's still alive, but they needed to enjoy their time in Hawaii, so fuck the dog and fuck you, too.




I assume the worst in people, and this worldview is confirmed more times than not. Maybe I'm looking for it, but when piggish behavior is on display right in front of me, day after day, I have a hard time manufacturing sympathy for my fellow man.

That's why I like the nighttime. Most of the assholes are asleep or in bars schmoozing with other assholes. The world seems contained. And when I say 'the world', I mean other people. It's just more peaceful without shitty people shittin' around. That's the appeal of zombie movies and zombie comics. I already feel like part of a gang of people struggling to survive against a wave of hungry murderous morons. I identify with the fictional survivors of a fictional zombie apocalypse.




Here's where things get murky and I feel the need to self censor so I don't come off like a homicidal psycho, but since I prefaced it and am aware that most of my writing is ridiculous, here goes, mildly self censored....

In a zombie scenario, I have the green light to kill the fuckheads that are stinking up the place. And it brings me a little bit of satisfaction to play out these scenes in my head. That's what's unsettling. To feel comfortable with the thought of murdering as a solution. But you'd be a goddamn liar or a really great person if you've never had a revenge fantasy. Thinking about it too much will stress you out, but a healthy murder scenario daydream involving your boss is a perfectly acceptable way to spend an afternoon. Preferably on a swing-set. Murder fantasies get a bad reputation because real murderers fuck it all up. Also, murder is bad, especially for those who get murdered. Murder.

How did I get so far down the kill hole in this post? Fuck. I don't feel any better by writing this, and maybe that's the lesson, if there is any lesson at all in this rambling critique of my neighbors and people in general. You can't get rid of hatred by expressing it. And harboring hate isn't good for you, either. I think the lesson to be learned is that hate is bad and love is good. Spread the word.




I've gotta stop writing. I need to go sharpen my gun and think about how cool it would be to live in jail.